Through My Eyes
by ReadySetJett
Summary: Some ficlets and mostly from the point of view of more minor characters but there will be some Alek/Deryn POVs more then likely.
1. Hello

A servant tapped Ernst's shoulder. He sighed and glanced away from watching Franz giving his speech at his meeting with his uncle and several other rather important aristocrats. The wildcount sighed and turned away as Ernst's friend glanced down at his notes.  
>"Yes, what is it?" he murmured impatiently.<br>"It's the archduke's wife, sir," whispered the servant in his ear. The man seemed quite awkward but he started to continue anyway. "She's-"  
>"Ah. It's THAT day, is it?" Ernst sighed again, sparing the man of speaking. He nodded. "Thank you. I'll tell Franz."<br>With that, the servant hurried away to other duties. Ernst bit down a groan and silently slipped around the edge of the room until he was behind the archduke. He crept forward and laid a hand on Franz's shoulder. His friend glanced up at him curiously as the other men glared at him in annoyance. Ernst ignored them and gestured for Franz to come away several meters.  
>"If you will excuse me a moment, gentlemen," the archduke said with his dashing smile as he stood. He strode after Ernst.<br>"What is it?" he hissed unhappily. "You know how important this is, Ernst!" Ernst brushed off his angry tone.  
>"Sophie's gone into labor, Franz," he whispered. He friend's face was immediately drained of all color, eyes growing wide.<br>"Now calm down," Ernst said hurriedly, grasping his shoulders and squeezing. Franz was becoming undone and it looked as though he would scream. "I received the message only minutes ago."  
>"Please finish for me!" Franz's voice was barely above a whisper. He was afraid he would scream too, then.<br>"What?" Ernst blanched loudly before he dropped his voice to a hiss, "What?"  
>"I have to be with Sophie!"<br>"You yourself said this was dreadfully important!"  
>"Ernst, please!"<br>"I am no archduke, Franz! I would help if I could!" Ernst snarled fiercely. Franz dropped his gaze and his shoulders sagged underneath the count's hands.  
>"Very well, Ernst," the archduke's voice was strangled. "You're right." A new worry popped into Ernst's mind. What if Franz broke down? That certainly wouldn't go down well at all. He did have notes... Perhaps...<br>"Franz," sighed Ernst, succumbing guiltily. His friend looked up at him, wide-eyed.  
>"I'll use your notes."<br>Franz broke into a grateful grin and threw his arms around Ernst. The count flinched and pushed him away.  
>"Thank you!" he said boisterously as he trotted out of the room. Ernst smacked his palm to his forehead and sat in Franz's seat, scrutinizing the notes.<br>"Where's Franz?" demanded the Kaiser. "Where is he going?"  
>"A pressing family matter has arisen, my Lord," Ernst said calmly despite the butterflies taking wing in his stomach. "Franz insisted I take his place, regretfully." The Kaiser glared bullets into him but remained silent. Ernst cleared his throat to fill the silence.<br>"Well, gentlemen, shall we resume?"

~X~X~X~

Ernst lingered in the room, packing Franz's notes and the additional ones he'd taken— in order not to forget anything— into his satchel. He sighed wearily. He certainly did not envy Franz. He would be driven mad with all the information and politics.  
>"It's HER, isn't it?" spat the Kaiser's voice behind him. Ernst closed the bag at his waist and turned to face the icy emperor.<br>"Sophie," he corrected coolly, bowing a bit. "Yes, their child was born." Joseph gave a snort of disgust.  
>"Just a pathetic thing, I'm sure," he spat. Ernst's mouth twitched protectively.<br>"As infants are, I've always thought, my Lord."  
>"Marrying that..." he paused then snarled, "impure whore in the first place! Fah!"<br>"I mean no disrespect, your highness," Ernst growled, bristling as he stepped closer. "but do not speak of Sophie in such a manner again."  
>"Or you'll what?"<br>Ernst went silent. In all honestly, he wanted to show the emperor a thing or too right now.  
>"Can you not be happy for your nephew?" the count continued, stepping past the old man.<br>"I cannot!" shouted Joseph after him. "Nor will I ever be!" Ernst pivoted on his heels and ground his molars. He barely manage to bow low from the waist.  
>"Have a good day, my Lord," he hissed through gritted teeth then strode away. He heard the Kaiser say nothing after him so he hurried from the vicinity.<br>He sighed as he stepped into the carriage that waited for him. His kneaded his brow and gazed out the window, conflicted. The emperor should mind his tongue. He may be the leader of a powerful empire but that didn't mean he should hate in such a way. There was a new Hapsburg, whether his— or her— blood wasn't pure. It would barely be an infant, only a few hours old.  
>As the carriage drew up in front of Franz's palace several minutes later, it had started to snow again. It was rather cold as Ernst trudged his way against the wind, with hands buried in his coat pockets, inside. The wind disheveled his hair and small shards of ice and snow stung his face.<br>"Where is Franz and Sophie?" he asked a maid as he stamped his boots.  
>"In the bedroom, sir," she answered cheerfully. "May I take your coat."<br>"Yes, thank you."  
>He shed his coat and she took it lightly from him before disappearing. Ernst strode through the palace, his boots squeaking on the tiles. He couldn't help but set his jaw in annoyance. Even as a child, he'd loathed that sound.<br>Shaking his head with a smirk, he politely knocked on Sophie and Franz bedroom door before entering. Franz was leaning back against the headboard, his wife's head resting on his shoulder and a child cradled in his arms. Sophie looked as though she were asleep, but then her eyes flickered open, settling on him warily. Franz grinned up at him childishly.  
>"Hello," Ernst said with a smile. It was hard not too, with that look on his friend's face. "How are you Sophie? Well?"<br>"Tired," sighed the woman, sitting up and pushing her messy brown hair away from her face. "but alright."  
>"Good."<br>Ernst crossed over to sit on the edge of the bed at Franz's feet. He leaned over to peak at the bundle close to the archduke's chest.  
>"Meet Aleksander," he said proudly. Ernst could only blink at the stirring newborn.<br>"Hello, Aleksander."


	2. Come Look

Six-year-old Jaspert Sharp crossed his ankles and stared at the ceiling. He was sitting on the sofa with his back on the cushion and his long legs over the back. His brow furrowed when he thought about what could possibly be inside his mother's large stomach. When Jaspert had asked his da AND his ma, they had been vague but kind of excited. All Da had said was, "You'll see."  
>Feeling dizzy from all the blood rushing to his head, Jaspert sat up and couldn't move for a moment. Finally, he stood up and scampered up the stairs to his room. Well, almost his room. His Ma called out to him from her bedroom.<br>"Jaspert!" she said. The small boy looked up and into his parent's room. Ma was sitting on the bed, a look of obvious pain on her face, with a hand gripping her vast belly tightly. Jaspert frowned, concerned for his Ma.  
>"Aye, Ma?" he replied, trotting up to her and touching her arm. Her eyes were wide and he saw her grind her teeth with an unseen strain.<br>"Get your Da for me," his Ma said as calmly as she could manage.  
>"Are you okay, Ma?" he asked, scrutinizing her as closely as a six-year-old could. "You look a wee bit hurt."<br>"Aye, I'm fine," she said in a flustered rush. "Just get your Da." Huffing a sigh, Jaspert reluctantly turned and bounded the stairs. He flounced through the house to his Da's study. He knocked at the door cheerfully. Jaspert had always loved being in the study when he was allowed.  
>It was filled to the brim with books on aeronautics and beasties of all shapes and sizes. Loose parchments with strewn across the room with sketches of new balloon designs Da would come up with. It was a very unkempt room, everything without order. But someone, Da always seemed to know where everything was.<br>"Come in!" called Da's voice from inside as Jaspert knocked again impatiently. The boy smiled and hurried in. Da was at his desk, pencil and sketchpad in-hand.  
>"What is it, Jaspert?" he asked, setting down the things in his hand and stood up. He towered over the small boy, wearing a smile. Jaspert fidgeted as his Da picked him up and held him.<br>"Da!" he protested, laughing. Da laughed too and kissed his forehead before settling him down, ruffling his blonde curls playfully.  
>"What did you want?" repeated Da again with a grin.<br>"Ma wanted me to get you!" Jaspert replied cheerfully. Da frowned.  
>"Why? Was something wrong?" he asked worriedly. Jaspert shrugged.<br>"Well, she looked sort of hurt," he said. His Da's frown deepened and walked forward, patting him on the head.  
>"Thank you, Jasp," he said and strode quickly out of the room and stole up the stairs. Jaspert blinked, frowning. He peeked out of the study before following Da up the stairs. He looked into his parents' bedroom, looking in curiously. Ma looked like she was in agony, gripping Da's hand and her stomach still. She was trying to control herself and succeeding, Jaspert supposed. Da's eyes were wide with a look the little boy had never seen in them before. A look of fear.<br>Da kissed Ma's forehead and murmured something urgently. She nodded a bit and flinched. Jaspert's father released her hand and hurried from the room. He looked surprised to see Jaspert standing there but he got over it and turned the boy around, ushering him down the stairs.  
>"What's wrong with Ma?" he asked worriedly. "What's happening?"<br>"She's fine," but Da looked like he was lying. Whenever he was nervous or anxious, he couldn't lie worth a clart. "I'm going to take you over to Seamus's house now, alright?"  
>"Why?"<br>"Well, I need to talk to his Da."  
>"Why?"<br>"About your Ma."  
>"Why?"<br>Da's mustache twitched as his mouth did and Jaspert fell silent, struggling to match his father's pace. They went what seemed like as fast as humanly possible to Jaspert. They had reached Seamus Finnegan's house in a matter of minutes. Seamus was a boy Jaspert's age. Initially, it was only their parents that'd been friends.  
>Then they realized they had more in common the they'd thought. They both wanted to be airmen and they thought girls were disgusting and stupid among other things. Then there was the matter of Angus and Billie, the two tigersque guard dogs that the Finnegan's owned. The two boys adored them mightily.<br>Jaspert saw Angus and Billie laying side-by-side in a bright sunbeam on the lawn. Angus had one eye open, gazing at he and his Da warily. The two beasties weren't very active in the day but at night, Lord help the man that got caught by them. Da knocked on the white door, shifting from foot-to-foot anxiously. Soon, Dr. Finnegan opened the door. He was Seamus's father but insisted he be called Dr. Finnegan rather then Mr. Finnegan for some reason.  
>"Oh, hello, Artemis," Dr. Finnegan said in surprise. "Hello, Jaspert."<br>"Hi, Dr. Finnegan!"  
>"Hello, Edward," Da said, biting his lip. "Would it be alright if Jaspert stayed here for several hours?" Dr. Finnegan frowned, his brow knitting.<br>"You know your always welcome here," he replied. "What's wrong?" Da's voice lowered.  
>"It's about Maggie," he murmured.<br>"Ah." Dr. Finnegan nudged Jaspert inside. "Seamus is in his room." Then he closed the door before Jaspert could thank him. Seamus's Ma peeked out of the kitchen, her face whitened with flour.  
>"Hello, Jaspert," she said, surprised as well. "Where's your Da? I heard him."<br>"He and Dr. Finnegan are outside. Talking, I think." Jaspert paused. "I'm going to play with Seamus now."  
>"Ah. You boys have fun."<br>Jaspert didn't reply as he bolted, grinning, down the hall to the room on the right at the end. Without bothering to knock, he barged in. Seamus as on his bed, his brow furrowed in concentration. He held a sketch book and a pencil tight in his grip.  
>"Watcha doin', Finn?" Jaspert said brightly as he padded over.<br>"Tryin' to draw like your Da," grumbled the other boy. "One of those balloons."  
>"Oh."<br>"Wanna come look?"  
>"Sure!"<br>Jaspert peeked at the drawing. It wasn't too bad, to him. But, then again, he was six.

~X~X~X~

After several hours of nonstop play and annoying Angus and Billie, Jaspert saw Dr. Finnegan finally come home looking weary but satisfied. He had immediately gone to speak to Seamus's Ma for several moments before leaving and going to Jaspert.  
>"Jaspert, I need to take you home now," he sighed, gazing down at Jaspert warmly.<br>"Aw! Do I have too?" protested the little boy.  
>"Aye."<br>Jaspert stood up from where he'd been wrestling with Seamus and followed Dr. Finnegan to the door.  
>"Oh! By Seamus!" he called cheerfully and turned around, satisfied, when his friend waved goodbye to him.<br>"Dr. Finnegan?" Jaspert asked after several moments of silence.  
>"Aye, Jaspert?"<br>"What happened to my Ma? Is she okay?"  
>Dr. Finnegan smiled down at him warmly.<br>"Aye, she's fine. You have a little sister now."  
>"What?" cried Jaspert, in dismay and alarm. The tall man blinked at him.<br>"You did know you would have a little sibling, right?"  
>"No!"<br>Dr. Finnegan blinked again then smirked.  
>"Well, now you know," he chuckled. Jaspert didn't reply, his kind reeling. A little sibling? A GIRL? Disgusting! A barking little sister! How could his parents get a girl? Why would they choose a girl over a boy?<br>Jaspert didn't speak until he'd gotten home. He immediately ran upstairs to his parents' bedroom. Dr. Finnegan didn't stop him, still wearing an amused smile. At first, Jaspert could digest the image before him— mostly because of that small bundle in his Da's arms.  
>Ma had her arms roped around his neck, smiling. Da looked up at Jaspert, grinning like a loon.<br>"Come look at her, Jaspert," he said. Jaspert didn't move a moment, then reluctantly crept forward. He peered down at her over Da's shoulder warily. Her eyes were closed but she was fidgeting unhappily. Jaspert raised an eyebrow.  
>"It looks stupid," he said bluntly. His mother sharply cuffed his ear. Da shook his head a bit.<br>"She's only a baby, Jasp," he said softly.  
>"You should name her Salt."<br>"Why Salt?"  
>"I dunno. I like salt."<br>"We already have a name picked out, Jaspert," Ma growled tiredly. "Deryn Elizabeth."  
>Jaspert blinked and rolled the first name around on his tongue.<br>"Well, I like that, too."

**A/N: I don't like this one as much as the first one I did ("Hello") but it's cute. :3 This was kind of a request from OnceUponAPage on DeviantArt.**


	3. Telegram

Corporal Hans Bauer stood at attention in the brisk night air outside of the Hapsburg palace. His rifle was at his side, a pistol at his hip, and a knife on his belt. It was unusually cool this evening. Hans fought the urge to tighten his collar about his neck. Instead, he flicked his eyes about the horizon calmly. Every twenty minutes, another guard would pass by on their rounds with a German Shepard at his side.

Things had been tense among the palace guards, Hans had noticed. War was coming. Or at least, that's how rumor had it. Archduke Ferdinand wasn't well liked either; choosing to avoid any sort of political warfare if at all possible. Hans himself didn't care for politics. It was all a jumble of meaningless words and promises to him. He had decided it didn't matter if he liked the archduke and his family or not—Hans was only an employee.

He let out a bored sigh, blinking his heavy eyelids. Only several more hours of this, perhaps a catnap, and he was back on duty again. Sometimes being a guard depressed him. He felt like he was kept from the battlefield, where he belonged. The men—even several women, including one of his sisters—in his family had always been soldier types, and Hans was no expection. Despite his namesake, he was no farmer. He could barely think of the boredom of farm life without a cringe. His fingers were made for the triggers of walker cannons and rifles, his eyes just as crafted for the sights.

And here he was—stuck being a household guard for a politician no-one seemed to like.

"Corporal Bauer!" hissed a voice from behind Hans, breaking the silent spell of night. He jumped and whirled around, his thumb already on the cocking mechanism. A man stood there, unfazed. Hans had seen him quite frequently but couldn't place his name. He was a tall man with a dark, imperious aura about him. He had an impressive handlebar mustache that was graying with age, as was the brown-blonde hair at his temples.

Volger.

Graf Ernst Volger. That's who it was.

Slowly, Hans lowered his weapon and gazed back at Volger apologetically. The other man looked at him in the utmost annoyance.

"I'm sorry, sir," Hans said meekly. "What is it?"

"The archduke wishes your presence in his study in evening," the count growled, gazing at him coldly. Hans blinked. Had he heard the count correctly? In the archduke's study?

"You do know the way to the study, do you not, Herr Bauer?" sighed Volger with announce and contempt. Finally, Hans's tongue started to work again.

"Yes. Um, that is, yes, sir," he stammered. "I just never-"

"I don't care."

Hans blinked, slightly wounded and somewhat astonished with the count's rudeness. Stammering an "um," he bowed low and turned into the palace.

It was considerably warmer inside. Hans unbuttoned two of his coat's buttons, striding swiftly down the halls. The grip on his rifle tightened anxiously. What did the archduke want with him? He hadn't been AS rowdy recently. What had he done wrong? Surely, he couldn't have done anything badly! Maybe Ferdinand would dismiss him from the household guard. What would he do then? Would he go to the battleground?  
>Biting his lower lip nervously, he knocked on the archduke's study's door.<p>

"Intrude," called a calm, almost teasing voice from inside. Taking a composing breath, Hans entered. Archduke Ferdinand was sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled. His face was held no particular emotion but his dark emerald orbs were sparked with happiness.

"Ah, Corporal Bauer," he said and stood to greet Hans.

"Your Highness," replied the young man, bowing low from the waist.

"Shut the door, if you will. These are rather private matters."

"Yes, sir."

Hans felt sick with nerves as he closed the door soundly. What would an archduke what to discuss with a lowly corporal that was so private?

When he turned around, Archduke Ferdinand was gazing out the windows with his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't speak immediately but Hans waited on him patiently, leaning his rifle against the desk softly.

"I'm sure you are aware of the trip I must to Sarajevo with Princess Sophie, yes?" His Serene Highness glanced back at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Er, yes, I am, my Lord," Hans replied, still baffled. What did he have to do with the archduke's venture to Serbia? Of course, he didn't question the other man. As Franz Ferdinand turned, he wore a pensive, troubled expression.

"Ask your questions," he said coolly, surprising Hans.

"Well, sir, what do you want me to do?" the guard said hesitantly, his brow furrowing. The archduke sighed.

"I know I am not well liked," he said, "true?"

"I shouldn't answer that."

Ferdinand chuckled. Then his small smile vanished. A shadow fell over his face and he grimaced.

"If..." he paused, "the worst should happen, I want you to protect my son."  
>Hans blinked, dumbstruck. He stared at the archduke, who gazed back in all seriousness. Why, of all people, would the archduke choose him; a mere corporal?<p>

"Sir?" Hans said in an odd, strangled voice. The archduke smiled halfheartedly.

"Aleksandar has had enemies since he was born, Herr Bauer," he said, "but he is more important then anyone realizes at present. I shall not go into details." Hans released a stunned breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Of course, you would not be alone in this venture," said Archduke Ferdinand hurriedly, "Four other men will be joining you, if things in Serbia should go amiss."

"Where will we be taking Prince Aleksandar?" asked Hans.

"Switzerland," replied the archduke, stepping out from behind his desk and facing the guard. "Switzerland is neutral country. If war should break out, you'll be safe there."  
>Hans nodded slowly. Still one question nagged at him.<p>

"Why did you choose me, my Lord?" he asked. "Why not choose a major or a captain?"

"Hmm? Ah."

The archduke grimaced, his eyes darkening.

"It may be a completely unnecessary worry, but if someone should try and get to Sophie or I," he said, "I always envisioned them trying to bribe the men with the higher ranks. Besides," he shrugged, "I like you. I've also been told your the best in your class."

Hans blinked at him again, pride slowly creeping through him. He felt his chest swell against his will. He hadn't even properly met the archduke. He heard the man chuckle cheerfully.

"If something should happen," he continued, wearing a slight smile, "you will receive a telegram."  
>Hans nodded and allowed himself to smile broadly at the archduke.<p>

"I'll keep the prince safe, my Lord," he promised. The archduke clapped him on the back.

"I've no doubt about that, Corporal Bauer," he laughed again. He strode back to his desk.  
>"Have a good evening, Bauer."<p>

Hans saluted smartly—and proudly.

"And you, sir."

Taking his last words as dismissal, Hans took his rifle back and slipped out of the study. Once outside, he paused. Then he barely fought down a whoop of pride and had to stop himself from sprinting down the corridors. Instead, he kept himself to a swift walk. He slowed for half a moment outside Prince Aleksandar's room. He gazed at the door curiously a moment, wondering what the prince was like. He had never spoken to the boy. The prince was only about half a decade younger then himself. Surely, he couldn't be so much different.  
><em>Don't be ridiculous! <em>he scolded himself. _Of course he's much different then you! He's a prince!_Rolling his eyes at himself with a sigh, he exited the castle and took up his position outside.

~X~X~X~

One week later, a telegram was resting on his bed that night. It read:

_Archduke and princess murdered in Sarajevo. _Stop.

_Poisoned_. Stop.

_Proceed to the stables to prepare. _Stop

~X~X~X~

**A/N: I have to say, I like this story a lot! I've always adored Hans Bauer as well as the other minor characters but this was so fun, writing from his POV. Bauer means 'farmer' by the way just in case if you were confused about that or whatever...**


	4. All About Us

Eddie Malone gazed at Adela Rodgers from across the floor. He felt somewhat lonely as she snapped pictures of the dancers and took interviews. Eddie was doing the same. His job was merely to get more then Hearst's reporter. But, there was a strange stirring in Eddie's gut. He didn't want to take pictures or do interviews for these important people. He wanted to know more about Miss Rodgers, he wanted pictures of her. He wanted to capture her pretty hazel eyes in one frozen moment and the shine of her ginger hair in sunlight.

Eddie sighed and shook his head, snapping another picture of the dancers waltzing around the floor. On his shoulder, Rusty recorded the music and the conversation whirling around Eddie's head. Abruptly, someone laid a hand on the reporter's opposite shoulder. Eddie jumped and whirled around in surprise. It was only his boss, Paul McGregor.

"Oh, Mr. McGregor," Eddie said with his cheeky grin, "hey there." McGregor was a short, skinny man with balding gray brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was a Irishman, coming to New York when he was a young boy—or at least, he said so.

"Hullo, Mr. Malone," replied McGregor gruffly. Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes at his boss' mood. Undoubtedly, he was getting himself twisted in knots over Miss Rodgers' presence. "How d'you think Hearst's reporter is doing?"

"Adela?" Eddie shrugged. McGregor arched an eyebrow and gave him a hard look.

"You two on a first name basis then?"

"Oh, no, sir," Eddie said hurriedly, his face heating up a bit. He glanced at Miss Rodgers out of the corner of his eye. She was looking at him almost quizzically, as though trying to see through him. His face warmed up again and tore his gaze back to McGregor.

"Just get something better then that woman," he said sternly, glaring at Eddie.

"Sure thing, Paul," Eddie smirked cheekily an turned away, snapping a useless picture. McGregor stormed off, muttering to himself.

~X~X~X~

That bartender must've done something to his drink. Eddie had no idea what he was moving toward Adela; without Rusty or his camera. He screamed inwardly at himself to stop but his legs had a different idea. Miss Rodgers with wearing a smirk and a cocked eyebrow as he hunkered down right next to her at the table.

"Well, now, Mr. Malone," she said, glancing around, "Your here without your stupid toad."

"Rusty is a frog, Miss Rodgers," corrected Eddie, smirking to himself as Adela snorted. The party already started late but now to was around ten at night, the proceedings starting to wrap up. The dancing in the beginning had been something of an inside joke but now, they were dead serious about the whole affair. It was all pretty ridiculous.

Miss Rodgers didn't reply, both or them lapsing into a bit of an awkward silence. Eddie glanced at Adela when he thought she wasn't looking but, she was. Both of them blinked and her face turned a light shade of pink. The New York reporter bit his lower lip, mauling over a possible a career ending decision.

"Miss Adela Rodgers, do you any clue how to dance?"

Miss Rodgers looked at him sharply, her brow furrowing. Eddie only turned a darker red.

"A little, Mr. Eddie Malone," she said, adding a faux teasing tone to her voice. "Why do you ask?" Eddie grinned at her sheepishly.

"Teach me?" he asked simply, in a soft voice. Adela stared at him, eyes wide. Then she laughed abruptly, a laugh like a dozen bells.

"Your crazy!" she giggled. Eddie's heart started to sink then she gave him a mischievous smile and grabbed his hand. "Let's go." There was something else underneath the wayward look; something the other reporter couldn't place. He fought a gleeful cackle and stood up, still holding her hand. She led him away and hovered around edges of the dance floor.

"This is absolutely crazy," she murmured to herself. Eddie squeezed her hand and she looked up at him as if realizing they were still touching. He gave her a reassuring smiled. She grinned back evilly.

"So, you've got no clue how to waltz?" she asked

"None," Malone chuckled. Adela sighed.

"It's easy when you get into the swing of it," she said. "Just..." She paused.

"What?"

"Well, the best way to learn to really do it!" Eddie felt dread settle into his stomach. "Let's go!"

"Wait- what?"

Adela didn't answer, dragging him onto the floor. Eddie turned a bright red as Adela grinned up at him. She guided his unused hand to her waist and drew close, making Eddie image he had turned the color of apple. She laughed a little as she forced his feet to move in right direction. Eddie swore darkly as he stepped on her feet. Adela only giggled again.

He picked up quickly enough. He wondered how they looked, laughing like idiots and barely knowing what they were doing in the midst of a bunch of men and women who were completely serious. Out of the corner of Eddie's eye, he saw Paul standing over Rusty and his camera. McGregor's mouth hanging open in shock as he stared.

"Real attractive, Paul," Eddie laughed.

"What?" inquired Adela curiously. He gestured at his boss with his head and she turned to look. She laughed.

"His face!"

"Exactly."

"Wait."

"What?"

"He's your boss."

Eddie was silent a moment.

"So he is." As he smiled down softly at Adela, a thought struck him. "But I don't care."

"You don't?" she blinked.

"Nah."

Eddie pulled her off the floor with a whirl and Adela let out a squeak of surprise that made him laugh. They wandered back to Miss Rodgers' table, absently hand-in-hand.

"It's only a job," he continued as they sat, "besides, I'm their best reporter."

"I'm better then you," joked Adela.

"Are not."

"Are to."

"Are to."

"Are not!"

"Are to!"

"Are-"

"Oh shut up."

Eddie grinned, embarrassed. Adela only rolled her eyes.

~X~X~X~

Eddie and Adela came out of the building, walking side-by-side. They had long since released each other's hands but Eddie was thinking about it again. He walked her to the curb where she hailed a taxi.

"Eddie," she said suddenly as a taxi pulled.

"Yes?" he replied cheerfully. She turned to face him, she wore a blush and a smile.

"Tonight wasn't as unbearable as I thought it'd be. Thanks."

"Hey, no prob-"

She cut him off with a swift kiss. Eddie stared down at her, his face heating up. As abruptly as she'd kissed him, she pulled away.

"See you around," she said, slipping into the cab. Eddie's throat was sealed off and felt as though he couldn't breathe.

"See ya," he mumbled when she was long gone. He smiled warmly to himself and turned, starting back his apartment at a swagger. He hoped he would see her like that again.


	5. Epilogue

Hans sighed and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. He sat across from Klopp in the apartment they temporarily shared. It felt nice to be free in America, but he missed his charge. It made him feel weak to know Aleksandar was still on an enemy while he was in America with the two engineers. He smiled and sighed contentedly.

Suddenly, there was a weight on his lap. Hans jumped and looked down at the cat purring happily as he curled into a ball. He chuckled and stroked the cat.

"Master Klopp, if you give Diesel anymore food, he'll get fat," he laughed. There was an indignant huff from Klopp.

"Better then too skinny, if you ask me," said the Master of Mechaniks pointedly. Diesel was a fluffy black cat, closely resembling a cotton ball when he was curled up, with a single gray paw and bright emerald eyes - much like Prince Aleksandar's, actually. It seemed Klopp had a soft spot for cats, not fabricated ones of course. He claimed Diesel followed him, but Hoffman and Hans doubted it very much. Diesel was a lovable, friendly cat and it was difficult to say 'no'. Obviously, it had failed.

Hans sighed again and shut his eyes, still running his hand along the purring animal on his lap. It was quiet other then the loud purring, Klopp reading his novel. Hans' mind began to wander over the events from the last several years. Hoffman had attracted an eccentric woman to him, who was now his girlfriend. Aleksandar was not a prince anymore. The world was spinning madly on it's axis as the times changed. The war was still continuing, though the curtain seemed like it was drawing to a close. The Kaiser had died but the Germans were still fighting. The Darwinists were attempting peace talks, at least.

"A blood saga, this is what this war is," Hans said absently and opened his eyes. Klopp looked up, his brow furrowed.

"Excuse me?" the older man frowned.

"God's wounds, sometimes I wonder how we got here at all," continued Hans, sitting up straighter. Diesel jumped off his lap, startled. "All this was was old grudges, if you think about it. Makes you wonder why we all just don't move on."

"I suppose you're right," Otto shrugged, looking thoughtful, "The Darwinists and the Clankers; the Kaiser and Franz Ferdiand."

"We all end up in a pine box," the young man muttered, running a hand through his hair, "We were just a prop in a mighty dark plot. The fine print in the script only hastens to the epilogue."

He chuckled. "But the little boy fled, and the king is dead. And the castle is left for the taking." Klopp nodded, smiling grimly.

"Who knows? Maybe the throne will survive if it undergoes surgery."

"Yes, perhaps a surgery."


	6. Epitaph

_**Artemis Thomas Sharp**_

_**A father, husband,**_

_**Friend, and airmen**_

_**1853-1912**_

Artemis sighed miserably as he gazed down at his tombstone. He didn't like being dead at all. He couldn't feel a thing beside the ever-present chill about him. Well, he supposed he died for a good reason but being burned alive was not a pleasant experience. Better him then his daughter, though. Deryn was only thirteen, whereas he was in his forties. She had a full, and hopefully long, life ahead of her. At the moment, she didn't speak almost if she couldn't. Another thing that worried Artemis was Deryn's compliancy to be stuffed into skirts and corsets.

But then again, Hell hath no fury like Margaret Sharp.

Artemis wandered amongst the graves until he had exited the cemetery. This was barking ridiculous! He couldn't even touch the ground! He just sort of hovered over it as he moved. He highly doubted he would get over the entire ghost thing. It was just pure dead odd.

Artemis continued down the road, gazing around at all the familiar places. It made him feel awful. He couldn't go in the way he had, and be seen. He stopped in the middle of the street, shoulders sagging. Abruptly, he saw a pair of headlights out of the corner of his eye, racing toward him.

He whirled around and whipped his hands up to his face instinctively. Without warning, he felt as though he'd been cast back into the flames he had burned in before being submerged in the icy waters of Russia. He shuddered and looked back at the car that's passed right through him. He watched it until it had faded into the darkness.

That incident alone made Artemis want to cry. He wanted to be hit, and be hit hard, then bleed across the pavement just to know he was alive. But he wasn't alive—not anymore.

_**~X~X~X~**_

After meandering aimlessly about Glasgow, Artemis made his way back down the boulevard where he had lived. He didn't alert Angus and Billie, the old tigeresque watchdogs, prowling around the Finnegan's property. He could've sworn Billie had looked right at him and whined before continuing on. But she was only a dumb beastie as much as he wished he'd been noticed.

Despite the late hour, the lights in the Sharp household were still on. Or at least, a few of them. Jaspert's and Maggie's were on but Deryn's room was dark. Moonlight shone against the damp grass, fighting its way stubbornly through the thick cover of clouds.

Artemis ran a hand through his sandy hair and crept up to the house. He wondered how he would get up to the second floor when he remembered he may as well barking float up. And he did, coming up to lean just into his wife's room. Maggie was mending something for Jaspert, it seemed. She wasn't watching what she was doing, not really. Nonetheless, she never stuck herself with the needle. Artemis smiled sadly and moved on to his son's room.

Jaspert was looking at a book on aeronautics but didn't appear to be reading it. Mostly, he was doodling and scribbling on a loose piece of paper. His head was propped in his hand and he swung his legs back and forth as though he were a little boy. Artemis watched him for several moments before a quiet song pricked his ears.

He made his way to the back of the house, his feelings skimming over the wood without feeling. Deryn was perched in the single, tall tree that stood proudly by her window. She was sitting on a branch she spent much of her time on, sketching or merely enjoying the view. She was singing bitterly now, breaking her father's heart.

"You said that you loved me,

You said that you cared,

You told me you would never go

And leave me behind

You're all that I loved—"

Her voice broke and a fresh stream of tears trickled down her face. She hummed raggedly to the next part and Artemis found himself singing softly to her hums.

"I have to leave now,

This place I adore

No more can I wonder

The wild glens and shores

For the tyrants have robbed me

Of house, lands, and pride

Bitter the parting of lovers entwined."

He sat on the branch beside his daughter, but only hovering over the branch. He let out a choked sob as he watched the sadness he'd caused. Barking kerosene tanks.

"I'm so sorry, my little bird," he whispered and tried to stroke her blonde ringlets. Again, the feeling of fire and ice coursed through his hand to his arm. Deryn jumped, alarmed, before settling. Artemis felt an odd sensation, as though he were being slowly erased like a blemish on a piece of paper.

"Oh, Da," his daughter rasped, "You great, bloody bum-rag." Artemis chuckled half-heartedly.

"That's only putting it lightly, love," he murmured. Then he let out another sob. "I love you all so much."

And with those last words, Artemis Thomas Sharp—father of two, husband, and proud airmen—faded from the Earth.

* * *

><p><strong>I actually did this for a freewrite journal entry for school. Took 6 full composition notebook pages plus one with my own comments and stuff. From the usually one-word comments my teacher put on there, I think she liked it.<strong>

**Yup, from Deryn's dead father's POV. Hell. Yes. It was fun. I assumed he was like 43 when he died or something. I probably failed on my math but I did it twice and it seemed fine. I am God-awful at math.**


	7. Died Too Young

~Volger's POV~

It was all going splendidly. Aleksandar and MR. Sharp were going escape from all the commotion across the field, get into the vehicle, and the Zoological Society would have what they wanted to finish off the last remaining Clankers in the war. When he saw them hurry from the building, blending in nearly perfectly, Ernst did not expect an explosion. He did not expect to hear a gunshot from that distance. He did not expect himself to immediately run from the car and toward the two young adults. He did not expect to care about Deryn Sharp.

How wrong he was. How very wrong.

Ernst found himself running through the bullets and the smoke. He had to reach them. He may have once wondered why he cared, but not anymore. He thought of both of them as children, in a way, and they were happy, if not perfect, together. They were insufferable. Ernst wanted them to be happy—like Franz and Sophie before their untimely deaths.  
>He could see them, his eyes burning from the smoke. He made out a figure stirring on the ground before getting to his, or her, knees. He barely made out Aleksandar's features.<br>"Alek!" he shouted. Alek didn't move but he let out a cry of, "No!" Ernst's heart sank and he rushed to the young man's side. Alek cradled Deryn's limp form in his arms, tears starting to streak out of his eyes. The former count was momentarily frozen before his mind began working. He reached out and checked the women's pulse. It was faint but it was there—and it was getting weaker.

Half her face and neck was scraped raw, a bloody mess with gravel stuck in the wound. Her arms were just a mess and her right leg was twisted at a sickening angle. She could've healed from any of those wounds—granted, it would take time but she would heal. No, the fatal ones were on her stomach. Shrapnel pierced her in three places, staining her shirt and jacket.

"Alek," she moaned suddenly, her chest bucking. "Where are you?" Ernst felt like he would scream. He couldn't do a damned thing.

"I'm right here, love," Aleksandar whispered, touching his forehead to hers. Deryn's voice was barely a whisper:

"I love you, you barking prince."

Then she fell still.

Ernst and Alek just stared. The older man didn't have to check her pulse again to know she was gone. Alek looked down in disbelief and agony.

"No," he rasped, "Oh, no, no, no, no. You can't be—" He let out a scream and began to sob. Tears pricked at Ernst's eyes and he wrapped an arm around the other man's shoulders. He squeezed tightly before he heard shouts of German.

"We have to go, Alek," he whispered gently. Wide, puffy emerald orbs stared up at him.

"I can't leave her!" Alek cried. "I won't!"

"Then take her with you! We can arrange the funeral when we're safe."

Alek wore a look of such murder, Ernst wanted to jump off a cliff.

"Please, Aleksandar!"

Slowly, Alek pulled Deryn's body into his arms and stood. Ernst joined him before seeing the targeted object. He snatched it off the ground and led Alek to the automobile.

~X~X~X~

A week passed but it felt like a decade to Ernst.

Alek had received several bad wounds to his shoulders and leg but nothing too bad. The man had been in absolute misery, sulking about. Ernst didn't blame Alek; how could he?  
>If that was bad, her funeral was hell for him. Alek stuck close to Volger's side, his eyes bloodshot. Ernst caught the looks of disdain and outrage that were directed toward them, Nora included, from her family. He particularly feared the wrath of her mother which, according to Deryn, was quite fierce.<p>

After the entire affair, Ernst spotted Alek sitting on grass and pulling up the small green leaves harshly. Tears streaked down his face and he looked angrier then what he had been as of late. Volger paused, wondering if he should approach. With a sigh, he strode forward and sat Alek. He winced as his knees creaked and groaned in protest. He was getting old, it seemed.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, twirling a blade of grass around his index finger.

"Just perfect," spat Alek bitterly, abandoning the grass and flopping on his back.

"I am sorry about Deryn," Ernst continued, "I know you loved her." Alek didn't reply, but his brow lifted in a look of obvious pain. The former count continued tentatively.

"And I do know what you're feeling right now."

"How could you?" growled Alek rudely then continued, muttering, "It's not like anyone ever loved you." Ernst looked down sharply at the young man and glared at him, a flash of red hot hatred coursing through him.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Aleksandar," he snarled, "so I suggest you hold your tongue."

"Make me!" the other man retorted with such hate layering his voice, Ernst almost didn't recognize him.

"I don't suppose you know I had a wife, I don't suppose you know I had a daughter, I suppose you don't know I would've had a son," he spat back, ticking of points on his fingers, "You wouldn't know I had a lover, you wouldn't know I had a friend who was like a brother to me, and you wouldn't know I am very much in love with a women who loves me!" Alek stared at him.

"You don't know a single thing about me! Keep your damned mouth shut!"

With that, Ernst jumped to his feet and turned away from Alek. He tugged his hands fiercely through his hair, faces and images flashing in his mind. His daughter, his wife's grave. His shoulders sagged.

"Don't think you're the only one who's lost someone you loved," he growled, "or that you're the only one who cared about Deryn." He fell silent, shutting his eyes.

"I am sorry, Count," Alek's voice said quietly. "I..." His voice trailed off and Ernst heard the grass rustle as he got to his feet. Ernst turned back to the boy and smiled sadly.  
>"I did the same thing to your father," he said. Then they lapsed into silence, staring out over the greens and blues of the Scottish countryside. The air smelt of the rain. From nowhere, Ernst could see a rainbow. It was especially vibrant, the iridescent hues more pronounced then any other he'd ever seen. Butterflies danced in the air and a slight breeze tousled his hair. The day was perfect. So utterly perfect. It was hard to believe that the world had lost a wonderful, brave, and proud airwomen.<p>

"Why is it like this?" Aleksandar whispered, "So beautiful?" Ernst lay a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Maybe she's trying to tell you she's safe, and she wants you to be happy."

Alek scoffed.

"Life isn't always what you think it should be, Aleksandar. Look at Deryn's mother. She's barely gray when she buries her child."

A strong gust of wind, almost like Deryn's protest, blew his hair into his eyes. Alek was in a pensive silence. He was feeling the sharp knife of a short life. Ernst barely held in a grim chuckle.

Abruptly, he felt arms throw themselves around his neck with a choked sob. His mind barely registered Aleksandar weeping into his neck. Reluctantly, Ernst embraced him and closed his eyes.

~An hour later; Jaspert's POV~

Jaspert sat silently on the couch, watching his mother snarl at Dr. Barlow. The boffin was mostly quiet, letting her yell and curse, but would try to interject a protest here or there. Her traced the worn binding and covers of his baby sister's sketchbook. She had made it herself with help from their Da. From flipping through the pages, Deryn had obviously cared about that man, Alek. There were drawings of him everywhere with the beastie that was currently on Jaspert's shoulder, Bovril. There were beasties, Clanker machines, people, buildings, almost anything.

The door creaked open and Alek and that Volger man hesitantly poked their heads around the door. Volger's eyes were dry but Aleksandar's were puffy and red but drying. They slipped in the room, trying to go unnoticed by Jaspert's Ma. And failed.

"—and YOU!" she spat, her accent thicker with rage and sadness. She jabbed a finger at Alek's chest, who flattened himself against the wall. He got noticeably paler.

"You said you'd take care of her!" continued Ma.

"I—"

"Didn't you?"

"Tri—"

"Aye, well SURE you tried!" Her voice dripped with outraged sarcasm. "But apparently not hard enough!"

"Ma, please," Jaspert said, standing.

"Mrs. Sharp—" Volger tried. But Margaret Sharp would have none of it. She continued to rant and yell at Alek. Finally, he'd had enough.

"MRS. SHARP!" he bellowed, silencing her. He spoke angrily, "I meant every thing I'd ever said about Deryn! I tried, believe me! I gave up my country and my title for her—and I would gladly do it again! I would walk through HELL and back again if I could have her back!

I have had things explode, fall on top of me, gotten lost in a tomb, crack my skull, gotten shot, and electrocuted among hundreds of other things and I would do it all over again just to have more time with her!"

The surprise in the room was contagious at his bout of passionate rage. Volger stared at his red face and his moist eyes before hesitantly laying a calming hand on his shoulder. Dr. Barlow backed off and Ma mumbled an apology, and hurriedly exited looking embarrassed. Alek spun and his heels and started out the door. Volger glanced at the boffin. He had taken only one step when Jaspert called, "Alek!"

He looked down at Deryn's sketchbook and fondly stroked the cover before looking at the other man, standing in the doorway. Jaspert took two steps and held out the book.  
>"Here, take this. I've got plenty of memories of her."<p>

Alek stared first at the book then at him before reaching out and taking it gently. He blinked back at Jaspert.

"I... Thank you, Mr. Sharp," he stammered in quite an unprincely fashion. Jaspert's mouth twitched up into a ghost of a smile.

"Your welcome, your princeliness."

And with that, Jaspert walked away, leaving behind some of his most precious memories.

* * *

><p><strong>I did this listening to a plethora of songs including "Lighters" by Bad Meets Evil, "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele, and "Harder to Breathe" by Maroon 5. But it was inspired by "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry but then I discovered the magic of Linkin Park. Again. "Iridescent" IS AMAZING.<strong>


	8. All I Want For Christmas

"Miss Sharp, do you always lounge on someone else's furniture like that?" asked Dr. Barlow in annoyance, looking up from her book. Deryn yawned and rubbed her temples, her head pounding as her blood emptied into it. She was sprawled upside-down on the sofa in the lady boffin's flat, trying to stay awake. It was quite late at night that Christmas Eve but Deryn was determined to stay up and wait for those two Clankers.

"No," she yawned widely, "I just don't want to sleep." Dr. Barlow shook her head and looked back at her novel.

"Then don't sit like that," she sighed, adjusting her reading glasses, "You'll pass out. Drink some tea."

Deryn blinked and sat up, shaking her head as a dizzy spell came over her. She stood up and straightened out her shirt and pants before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She leaned back against the counter as she waited, and watched Dr. Barlow. This would be the boffin's first Christmas without her husband or her children—they'd been killed in a bomb raid over London. It still affected the city and Dr. Barlow appeared indifferent, but Deryn knew she wasn't. Sometimes, she wondered how much it hurt the lady boffin.

Alek and his-former-countship Volger had been away for quite sometime on an exclusively Clanker mission for the Zoological Society, and Deryn missed him badly. But she had written him, so he wasn't killed yet. He said he was en route to London but he wasn't sure when he would arrive with the nasty snow that'd been pelting the city for days. It made Deryn worried.

"When d'you think they'll get here?" she asked suddenly, frowning.

"Sorry, what?" Dr. Barlow glanced up at her.

"When do you think Alek and Volger will get here?" she repeated. Nora sighed and frowned.

"I hate to say it, but I honestly don't know," she said, looking outside to peer into the darkness and the harsh snowfall, "but I'm sure they'll be alright."

"Aye, I hope so."

"Don't know," Bovril disagreed somberly from the kitchen cabinet above Deryn's head. She looked up and took the beastie.

"Don't be that way, beastie, they'll be fine."

"But," it sighed, "emperors are vain and useless things."

"Good thing Alek isn't an emperor then, eh?"

She set the beastie on the back of the sofa and gave it a pat on the head as the kettle screamed. She turned and made up her tea jadedly. She wrapped her fingers around her mug and sat back down on sofa, properly this time, and let its warmth spread through her. She sipped at her tea and stared out the window sleepily. The tea Dr. Barlow had suggested wasn't helping her stay awake. In fact, it was only making her sleepier.  
>Her eyelids were heavy but she forced them open. It was up to her to stay awake for her prince. But she was slowly failing, no matter how much tea she gulped down. She fumbled to put her mug down on the coffee table and she yawned again, slouching forward. She wouldn't be able to stay up for Alek; the only thing she wanted that year.<br>Her eyes shut, and she was gone.

~X~X~X~

When Deryn woke up Christmas morning, she found she was still laying on the sofa but her head was on pillow and a blanket covered her. She was facing the small pine tree that she and Dr. Barlow had picked out and decorated, and the four little boxes underneath. An exchange between the lady boffin and herself, and a present for Alek and Volger each that they'd picked out together.

Deryn was curled up in a ball and she felt a heaviness at the end of the sofa, like someone else was sitting there. She heard voices but she wasn't paying attention and began to lapse back into sleep when she realized the lady boffin wasn't talking to herself. She sat clumsily and nearly fell off her place when an arm wrapped around her waist and held her up.

"Easy there, MR. Sharp," teased the boy. She could only blink at Alek dumbly. She actually thought, "How did Alek get into the flat?"

"Alek!" she squealed when she collected her thoughts. She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed him tightly. Alek laughed and tightened his grip around her waist playfully.

"Barking spiders, when did you get here?" she asked excitedly. Just as Alek was about to launch into an undoubtedly exaggerated, and fake, story, the lady boffin called out, "Just after you fell asleep, ironically." Deryn peeked at her. She and Volger were seated at the small table, eating breakfast and chattering away like the middy's old women—or her aunties, which were one in the same to Deryn.

Deryn pulled out of Alek's grasp and stole the ribbon off her present. She walked over innocently toward her prince. His mouth was open, probably to ask her what she was doing, when she slapped it forcefully on his forehead. She sat beside him calmly as he let out a yelp. He touched the bow and huffed.

"God's wounds, what was that for?" he spluttered. Deryn grinned and kissed his cheek.  
>"You're the only thing I wanted for Christmas," she said lovingly, "so you should look the part, aye?"<p>

"Aye," he agreed, his eyes softening. He gave her a lingering, tender kiss and Deryn heard Volger give a fake dry-heave. But she ignored it. When Alek pulled away, he was grinning and there was an impish glint in his eyes.

"But you DO realize I'll have to get revenge, don't you?" he purred. Deryn snorted.

"Go ahead and try, barking prince," she scoffed.

"Challenge accepted."

Immediately, he began to tickle her and Deryn began to giggle and laugh so hard it hurt. Alek was merciless, tickling her til tears streaked down her face and he was practically on top of her. She was listening but, Volger and Dr. Barlow were having their own conversation.

"Disgusting," the man growled, taking a bit of toast. Nora nudged his arm.

"It's all in good fun, Ernst," she said lightly, "Leave them alone."

"Yes, but 'all in good fun' may lead to children, mind you. And just think what kind of Christmas present that would be."

She shook her head and sighed, turning around to watch the two young adults. She absently laced her fingers in the former count's.

"Happy Christmas, Ernst."

"BARKING SPIDERS, STOPPIT, YOU BUM-RAG! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME!"

"You brought this on yourself!"

"Happy Christmas, Nora."

* * *

><p><strong>This was an entry for a Dalek Christmas contest on DeviantArt~ <strong>


	9. Sound The Bugle

**A/N: Hey guys! Haven't updated in a while! I just found something on my computer like MS Word so I no longer have to write on my iPod! Yay! And for my Portal/Leviathan fic, I am desperately trying to put that together. xDD I just needed to write something a little sad so have a little Volger angst.**

* * *

><p>Ernst Volger had watched people die all his life; his mother, his men, his best friends, his wife, his child. Everyone he had cared about, it seemed, had moved on and left him behind. He had nothing left but Aleksandar and, eventually, Nora and Deryn. But, even they were ripped away from him.<p>

Nora had died in his arms, two bullets to the abdomen. Alek and Deryn had fallen side-by-side. Bauer, Hoffman, and Klopp and been executed b firing squad once the Germans had gotten ahold of them. Not even the men he had escaped with could help him with his burden.

Often, Ernst wondered what it would've been like if the people he had cared about lived. He probably would've been a much weaker person, but perhaps he would have been happier. He had never known anyone who would stay. They all wandered in seperate directions at some point, whether to be to the other side of the Earth or amongst the dead.

So many times, it felt like he was the only one left on the entire plant. No one would speak to him, no one would so much as look at him. He was just another face in the street. To everyone else, he was just like them. It was enough. Enough of silence and lonliness.

Ernst had never thought his life would come to this. If anything, he had expected to die in battle. He had never though he'd take cyanide, but he also never thought his friends and family were going to die. He felt, there was no longer an option to continue. He certainly had no reason to. He had nothing, he had no one.

Ernst sighed deeply, running the pill between his fingers. He kneaded his brow. It was difficult, bringing himself to his own demise. The more he thought about it, the more his fear grew. It was odd. It had seemed so perfect up until this point. If one knew his demise would happen, it was human instinct to stop it. And it was so easy to stop. It was just a little pill; not a gun in an enemy's hand.

He hesitantly put the pill down. What to do now?

This wan't as easy as he had thought it would be. Perhaps, he wasn't supposed to be dead. Maybe, he just had to bear his burdens and walk on. What he would do, he wasn't sure.

Yes, he decided. That was his fate. Not a poison pill. Not joining everyone he cared about. He chuckled grimly. What would they think about him if he had? They would probably chastise him. He was still alive. He needed to treasure that.

He found that this was true.

_So ist das Leben-hart aber dafür gemein._


	10. Take Me or Leave Me

**A/N: I was just listening to my iPod and "Take Me or Leave Me" from _Rent!_ came on and I thought this up. xDD some of it may actually be contradictory? oh well.**

* * *

><p>"Sometimes, I wish you were a bit more proper," the shorter boy sighed. Hans glanced over at Alek and Dylan curiously. The Scotsman looked definitly offended.<p>

"Proper?" he sputtered, "Since when have you honestly cared about me being _proper?_"

"Since-"

"You don't seem to understand!" spat Dylan, "You have to take me for what I am! Not what you want me to be!"

"De- Dylan, " Aleksandar growled, "I am not asking you be anything but you, but sometimes-"

"Sometimes what?"

Any sound other than their fight was silenced, all eyes on the two young men arguing in the middle of the floor. Hans put down his drink for fear he'd choke. Alek seemed instensely aware of the watchers, Mr. Sharp on the other hand grinned maliciously.

"Dylan, _please_, lower your voice!" hissed the Austrian. The Scot sneered.

"Or what? You'll use a riding crop next time?"

A low murmur of unease rippled through the Darwinist party. Hans winced sympathetically at Alek's reddening face. Beside him, Volger dropped his head into his hand and let out a soft groan. He didn't especially have problem with Alek... Liking men, though it was terribly awkward. What the horrible thing was, it was now out in the open to be gossipped about. Of course, Dylan Sharp didn't really seem to care about what people thought about him.

"I am_ not _going to do this with you right now," Alek snarled, starting to storm off, when Dylan caught him by the arm, smiling wolfishly.

"Oh, come on, _liebe, _don't lose your mind over this," he purred, "You love the limelight, you know it, stand up to your audience."

"Dylan, stop it!"

"You know, any lassie here would kill to fill your shoes, show a little pride!"

"God's wounds, _please_, Dylan!"

Hans's gaze flickered between the two boys. He thought about stepping in, but he learned over the years to never step in when a couple were fighting like this.

"Be mine, or don't waste my time," Dylan spat, his voice low and angry, "and don't bother trying to make me into what I want to avoid."

It seemed Alek had regained a little dignity.

"You need to give a little as well, you know," he shot back, " and I think it best if we carried on this conversation in private."

He pulled himself roughly out of Dylan's grip and Hans tentatively took a step toward the former prince, and quickly hurried as his boyfriend trotted after him. Volger let out a pained sigh and joined Bauer. The two boys had struck up the argument in the hallway just outside, probably Dylan had started it. Apparently, he was far from being finished.

"There's no way I can be what I'm not! Buy, hey, don't you want your man hot?" Dylan said loudly, presumably to embarrass Alek further. To this Alek bared his teeth, his face flushed a deeper red. "So don't fight it! And don't lose your barking head! 'Cause everynight, who's in your bed?"

"That boy knows how to wound," muttered Volger, shaking his head. Hans nodded, his face twisting into a sympathetic grimace. Behind him, he heard all sound pause before hesitantly resuming.

"Who?"

"Damn it, I should've looked before I jumped," Alek hissed, shaking his head disapprovingly at himself, and stalking out into the courtyard, "This was damned."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!"

Alek whirled so suddenly, Hans jumped.

"This. Will. Not. Work! All I've ever done is give while you've off and galvanted, Deryn! Putting us in danger time and time again! I will not allow that, Deryn! You've got a man who doesn't compromise on such matters! All I care about is keeping _you alive!_"

He rubbed his brow angrily, pacing back and forth; something his father used to do, Hans recalled.

"Damn it, I hate such a mess but I love you, believe it or not. I do have your best interest in mind. What to do my improptu airman..." His eyes turned sharp and icy, "So be wise. How about _you_ take _me _for what _I _am-"

"A control freak."

"-and who _I _am meant to be-"

"A snob, yet overattentive."

"-and if you give a damn-"

"A loveable _Dummkopf_, clartwipe!"

"-_take _me or _leave _me!"

"An anal retentive!"

It seemed those final banters were the straw that broke the camel's back. They yelled rather unintelligible but unpleasent things at each other in a flurry of English and German, Dylan's voice becoming unusually high-pitched.

"I guess that's it then!" he shouted.

"I quit, unless_ you_ take it back!" Alek snarled.

As they stalked their seperate ways, Hans heard them hiss;

"Women!"

"Men!"

"What is it about them? Can't live with them or without them!"

Hans blinked and looked at Volger in confusion.

"Women?" he asked questioningly. The count groaned and pointed to Dylan.

"But, do keep it quiet and to yourself, " he sighed.


End file.
